


The Early Impressions

by Aly_H



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cousland's not a Warden!, F/M, First Impressions, Gen, M/M, The companions have some thoughts on the future saviors of Ferelden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 12:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: The first impressions that the companions get of each of the three heroes who will come to be credited with saving Ferelden from the brink.----Not my best piece ever, but it amused me to write so ya'll can suffer too.This was written as an attempt to frame the varying relationships between the Wardens and the companions rather than showing the actual linear story that the trio follow.





	1. Alistair

**Author's Note:**

> Who's Who:  
> Falcon Surana - Male elf mage Warden; Zevran romance  
> "Fen" Mahariel - Male elf Dalish rogue Warden; Morrigan romance  
> Eveline Cousland - Female human noble rogue; Alistair romance
> 
> Calenhad or Cal - Eveline's Mabari with a black coat; escaped the Cousland massacre with her.  
> Loopy - Falcon's Mabari which he first met at Ostagar where he helped treat its injuries and then later on the road out of the Kocari Wilds
> 
> Everyone else should be going by their proper names/titles/etc.

_The Archer_

It’s hard not to consider Fen Mahariel to be prickly. When they meet the elf is bitter, angry at the world and all that anger is focused on Duncan. Conscripted. Stolen. Forced away from his beloved Clan. Arrogant, Alistair thinks, after his first encounter with the tattooed elf.

The elf’s Joining is done on the road to Ostagar. Unlike the other recruits that are being fetched from across the kingdom Mahariel cannot wait for all to be gathered. The Blight is already coursing through his veins. Pale faced beneath the dark _vallaslin_ , with a tremble in his bow arm he can’t quite still it frustrates the elf that he cannot hide the weakness that forced him into the Warden’s life.

Later when Cailan slights him again – Ferelden’s King insists on spending time with all the Wardens but pointedly pretends Alistair does not exist. The elf stands from his seat at the table – the king halfway through a question and joins his fellow Warden – he greets him as _lethallin_ but offers nothing more until Alistair asks:

“What does that mean?”

“...I am unsure the _shemlen_ have a term that means the same,” he hesitates, for once the way he says the word does not sound accusatory. “You are like kin, a brother of sorts.”

Not arrogance, though still very proud. The sort of noble bearing that makes Alistair remember reading about the knights of the Dales.

 

_The Mage_

It was after Fen’s joining that Duncan left them on the road to Ostagar, going to the mage’s Tower at Lake Calenhad to request that more mages be sent to fight the Darkspawn threat. He did not intend to recruit, so it was a surprise when the raven arrived with word of the mage recruit: Falcon Surana.

There is plenty of suspicion to go around on both sides when he realizes what the slight little elf is. Mages are dangerous. But then so are Templars – and Duncan wouldn’t have recruited a mage, especially one so young (is he even eighteen?) without a good reason.

So he jokes, and when asked about why he is a Warden he is honest. His life in the Chantry was a prison. He sees understanding in those blue eyes and a slow smile, by the time they’re in the Kocari Wilds the mage is returning his quips.

Fen does not like this new elf but he tolerates him with the same level of brusqueness he does all non-Wardens. Alistair can understand why though – for Fen the Wardens are his prison, and for Falcon they are his chance at freedom.

 

_The Lady_

The third time he saw Eveline Cousland he thought he was going to die. While he lay flat on his back, knocked over, the ogre lifted his maul – he could hear Falcon’s shout, but the mage was holding off the attacks of an emissary while Morrigan did her best to heal the already badly wounded Fen.

The snarls of a second Mabari joining the fray reaching his ear just as a slight form in leather armor buried an axe into the arm of his massive attacker, cutting the tendons and causing the maul to slide uselessly from its grasp, though by the time he registered that he wasn’t actually dead the woman was gone again – dancing around the ogre until she got the chance to strike a killing blow.

After the fight finished the woman waited for their confusion over her appearance to abate, crouching as she wiped blood from her dog’s mouth and rinsed the beast off. This black Mabari was larger even than Falcon’s Loopy, a massive creature who clearly adored the woman it was bonded to.

Her eyes are steel-gray, and something about him seems to confuse her. Whatever it is she sets it aside as she answers Falcon’s questions. Fen is asleep – the healing will save his life but he needs rest.

She speaks with a Highever accent, explains that she followed her brother South and meant to join him at Ostagar. She was just in Lothering – their destination – and wanted to see how bad things were, grief was clear in her eyes if not her voice as she explained that she’d hoped to know if there was a chance that her brother had survived, but she did not think it likely so she will return north and go to Redcliffe.

It is Falcon who offers to have her travel with them, there is safety in numbers even if she and her hound are fine warriors.


	2. Morrigan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan's Impressions.

_ The Archer _

The archer is the quietest of the group of men that have been tramping through her Wilds on Warden Business. Handsome enough, it is he who spots her the first time. Freezing as he stares at the raven in the trees, his gaze narrowed – knowing that there is something unnatural about the way she watches.

The arrival of a group of Genlocks serves as adequate distraction.

He is just as silent after she shows herself, leading them to meet her mother. Had she not been absently enjoying the way that the _vallaslin_ that darkened half his face save for the pale vines and the vice versa on the other half complimented his face she would never had noticed the way he shifted back as he saw her mother.

The name ‘ _Asha’bellanar_ ’ shaped on his lips though he did not say it aloud, even knowing that it would hold no meaning for the humans he accompanies the elf doesn’t dare give who she is away to his comrades. Instead as they leave he lingers momentarily to give her a polite bow before he disappears back into the Wilds after her on the path.

She suspects that he approached her in the beginning of their travels together because he does not trust her. And trust isn’t something he gives her until much later on anyways, however his affections were not so slow to develop. A fact that seemed to surprise him as much as it did her…and she found his foolish compliments and the way enemies approaching her always seemed to sprout arrows sooner than those threatening the others endearing despite herself.

 

_ The Mage _

The mage has a naïveté that rivals that of the fool Alistair, and it annoys her because he is intelligent enough for it not to be so. Quick and clever he manipulates his magic as easily as he breathes. If he survives this pointless war that he has found himself in the mage would become someone truly formidable.

That is if he would stop marveling at ever ‘wonder’ of the outdoor world. Did he truly have to know the proper name for _every_ wild flower? Or to know which nighttime noises were frogs and which ones were insects? There was a simple excitement – a love – for new knowledge that softens her to Falcon though. She, at least, can understand what it is like to want to know everything.

He is quicker to trust than she likes though – a trait that will doubtlessly get him killed. At least it keeps him from asking why she has come too often.

 

_ The Lady _

The woman would like to pretend she is no one, but Morrigan can see it in the way she holds herself: Nobility. Not the innate air of pride and honor that can make Fen unapproachable to those outside the small traveling band but the kind that is _trained_. A lifetime of etiquette and power does not vanish out of the way one carries oneself overnight. Especially not when one travels with a Mabari fit for the royal kennels.

They are both aware that that the other’s motivations for aiding the Wardens are not altruistic, they don’t have to be so long as they don’t interfere. They don’t have to trust one another so long as they don’t interfere with the other’s goals though, and a sort of friendship develops between them anyways.

Later on, though, Morrigan is slightly appalled that a woman with as much sense as Eveline would look at Alistair and see anything other than an annoyance.


	3. Leliana

_The Mage_

His eyes trailed the Chantry robes, not the lingering way that most men’s do – looking for some hint of curves beneath the vestments – but because they clearly put him ill at ease. She’d watched the group come into town. Three had gone to the Chantry while this man, the woman with axes and the two dogs came to the tavern.

They were collecting news, but that didn’t stop the elf from pausing to speak with the red haired child that had been looking for his mother. By the end of the conversation he’d pressed a few coins into the boy’s hand, and sent him to get a meal. He also paused to help make poultices for the town’s elder before they finally came into their destination.

When she offered her aid he hesitated but accepted it anyways. It took three days for the last lingering suspicions regarding her Chantry affiliation to dissipate, though by that point the mage had come close to working out that she had been a bard for all he never brought it up.

She found Falcon to be rather sweet, and amused herself thinking of how many fluttering maiden hearts the black haired elf must’ve left in his wake who were unaware that his interests lay elsewhere.

 

_The Lady_

The lady was an alarming presence at first. A rogue with an education and mannerisms that betrayed her as being more upper class than most with a similar set of skills – she’d worried the other woman might’ve been a Bard.

At least until – under questioning by the Dalish archer, Mahariel – the woman had admitted to being Eveline Cousland, and that she was traveling to Redcliffe to seek the Arl’s support in her attempts to get justice for her family.

“Howe will pay for his betrayal,” she’d promised, eyes locked on the campfire’s embers. No family, no army, no lands – just a lot of anger and stubbornness. Many Fereldens had gone far further than simple vengeance on far less. It might make things dangerous further in the future – but the Wardens seemed contented with the answer and with making her an ally.

Someone to watch, but the sentiment – it seemed – was returned.

 

_The Archer_

She wasn’t surprised when the Dalish elf proved even more resistant to her presence than the mage had been. It took time to work past his grievances regarding her involvement with the Chantry. Alistair had jokingly advised her against setting the archer on fire to earn his respect, which was probably precisely what Falcon had done.

Years later, looking back on the early days of that journey she’d be greatly amused to notice that her friendship with Fen had been the subtle machinations of their mage companion.

Falcon was curious – and keen on stories. So he had asked about the tales she knew while they sat around the fire after their evening meal.

It was the story of Aveline that had finally broken the brunette elf’s silence towards her. He offered to tell her the Dalish’s version of the tale, the one that his clan’s _hahren_ had taught them. Soon other stories were following – and explanations of the elvish words that were sprinkled through the elf’s speech – and then finally there were nights when he’d sing for them.

The songs were always in elvish, given in trade for Orlesian and Ferelden ballads. Or on occasion a dwarven drinking song on the evenings after Oghren joined them. Fen had shook his head and said that he didn’t know enough of the old language to be able to translate them when she had asked – “My people are a half forgotten memory, _lethallan_. Wisps of a legacy that we don’t really recall.”


	4. Sten

_ The Archer _

The first time he sees the elf they are watching him with curiosity. His face is marked with the tattoos that indicate he is one of the nomads who live away from humans. He is a warrior, of a sorts, with a bow held in his hand. He was going to hunt the woods outside the village with his comrades when he had spotted the cage.

He is polite when he addresses him, although he is unsure at first whether the elf means to mock or his manners are legitimate. The furrowed brow in confusion tells him that the intentions behind the words were genuine. As is the intention behind the offer of redemption – though it makes the other two Wardens shift uneasily as the elf – Fen – picks the lock.

The Qunari does not quite believe that the three who claim to be Wardens are, but if they intend to face the Blight he will follow them to their deaths. It is better than staying trapped in that cage to die without being able to fight.

 

_ The Mage _

The Warden Mage.

Falcon Surana.

_Saarebas_.

It is obvious from the first night that the mage is as wary of him as he is of it. The black haired elf is younger than the others, and lacks much of the confidence that the other mage has. The mage has enough to both not trust him but also approach with caution so that he might learn.

The South is not as bad as Tevinter, but this _saarebas_ is a reminder of how dangerous the Southerner’s lack of caution regarding magic is.

He saw its power in battle and shivered – the other mage is like the _kasaanda_ sweet and dangerous, a trap waiting to be sprung. The Warden Mage unleashes the wrath of a storm when they enter the battlefield. Lightning and ice in a cascade of power almost as dangerous to his comrades as it is to his enemies.

A dangerous thing indeed.

 

_ The Lady _

The female rogue is as frustrating as the witch and the red haired sister. He cannot deny her skill – he has seen her kill far too many enemies before they reach the town of Redcliffe to be able to do so. Still would she not be happier accepting her role, and laying down her arms to be a proper female? She is no Warden and neither is she delusional enough to believe that her presence here is ordained by some absentee deity.

Her lack of purpose bothers him. It bothers her too, he believes.

He catches her sometimes, staring north – as if she would pick up her belongings and return to the ruins of her home, but knows there is nothing there. She speaks as often as the others but rarely says anything, if not for the glimpses of something softer around the Warden Alistair he might’ve doubted there was anything to the woman except her desire for blood.


	5. Wynne

_ The Mage _

It wasn’t as if she’d never heard of Falcon Surana – whose true name was Alim but he’d refused to answer to anything but ‘Falcon’ for long enough very few remembered that. The boy had been Irving’s prize pupil, and rather infamous for the fearlessness of his pranks and the boldness with which he used and experimented with magic – something most apprentices shied away from out of fear of attracting Templar scrutiny.

She knew the events that had led to Duncan taking the young man grieved the First Enchanter. He’d expressed his fear when making the decision to allow Jowan to be made Tranquil that it would affect the then-apprentice negatively. It was why Jowan’s Rite was put off until after the elf had been through his Harrowing. Then, at least, if things proved too difficult in the Ferelden Circle he might be sent to another or find sanctioned work.

Instead he helped Jowan escape and was made a Warden to spare his life, or at least his mind. She wasn’t sure a slow death by the taint was much better – or a quick one in an almost suicidal attempt to keep Ferelden from falling apart as the Blight marched across the south.

It was hard to see past the foolish apprentice to the Warden that the mage was becoming…

Still, some part of her believed after seeing what the three remaining Wardens managed at the Tower against Uldred and his demons that maybe there was some chance that they’d succeed in their impossible task.

 

_ The Lady _

If she had not been introduced as a Cousland anyways she would’ve recognized her mother in the woman. She’d not been in the group who helped free the Tower, but it was clear that she had no issues with the three Wardens, given how she laughed and smiled for Alistair though she did have a favorite.

The woman was every inch her parents’ daughter, a noblewoman and a warrior. If the woman survived her quest to avenge her family without it destroying her she’d be a formidable ally for the Wardens and the future King. If Alistair’s refusal to entertain the idea of being heir didn’t force Eamon to push the girl herself forward as Ferelden’s next ruler. It seemed unlikely to the Enchanter though, it was obvious that Eveline was far less malleable than Alistair was and the old Arl would want a ruler he could manipulate.

Still, she watched the girl and her dog at night and knew there were deep scars that were unlikely to heal. Her focus on killing Howe, on vengeance rather than justice would likely lead her to inflict even greater injury on her soul.

 

_ The Warden _

Colder than the other two, with the ability to separate himself from an issue and decide what was best for the cause and not just the people immediately in front of him Fen Mahariel was the only one of the group she would’ve thought of as a proper Warden.

Any means necessary, and victory through sacrifice.

It isn’t that he doesn’t care for people. The way his eyes soften and a little smile pulls on his lips as he calls out to one of his traveling comrades – _lethallin_ or _lethallan_. The way that he tilts his head to listen properly to Morrigan speak on length about whatever subject she is complaining of, and then tells her that she’s beautiful.

She can see the scars the loss of his Clan has left, and the Dalish hunter is doing his best to fill those holes again. They are a temporary Clan, he knows it but still fondly calls her _hahren_ , and tells her to rest while he sets the tent up for her. Even with as much as he criticized Falcon he cared for the young mage – his anger towards ‘the Antivan flat-ear’ being on the mage’s behalf though the younger elf didn’t seem to care that the assassin had tried to kill him.

The others follow the Dalish elf’s lead though she knows no one ever decided that he was the leader, it was an unspoken decision but the position is one the young man does well in.


	6. Zevran

_ Their Leader _

Oh, he was not foolish enough to believe that the others would welcome him in their midst. The leader of the merry band of misfits spent an hour shouting at the mage when he’d returned to their camp with the battered Antivan in tow and his arm nearly useless from the injury left by said Antivan’s blade.

The old healer had finally silenced him. The patient needed his rest, it seems as the youngest Warden and the big brown dog that had trotted along at his side the entire time – Loopy, he’d heard the beast called – vanished.

It was then that the archer finally addressed the assassin.

No amount of charm or flirtation would erase the offense that Zevran had given, and the man made it clear that the fact that he was still breathing was solely because the mage had asked that he remained so. Neither the leader nor the blond human seemed to enjoy the idea of leaving him alive. The black haired witch and the Qunari regarded him with open suspicion.

It might’ve bothered him more if he were not still surprised to still be breathing at all following the mess of an ambush he had set. If just _one_ Warden and his dog had done so much damage the assassin wasn’t certain that even had he been serious about completing the contract that he could have done it.

 

_ The Lady _

Despite the chilly reception the rest of the party gave him, while the youngest member slept off the healing and injuries that his actions had inflicted upon him, one of them did decide to deal with him as a person.

Well two of them actually. Eveline Cousland and the red haired Leliana both were quite friendly with him. Both were also rogues who he was certain he’d want to avoid in a fair fight. The black haired woman would be slower than most he’d fought but he could see that the leather of her armor was reinforced and worked to be heavier than most rogues would wear. She’d take a blow better than he could and the weight that those dual axes carried would undoubtedly ring his head like the bells of Val Royeaux if he attempted to cause trouble. (Not that he would, he had made an oath and pledged his loyalty to the Mage Warden after all.)

With himself added to the misfit bunch he counted four rogues – himself, the Bard, the Lady Cousland, and the irritable Warden leader of the lot. He would have to hope that the fib he told regarding his lock picking prowess never came to light.

Besides the good Arl Eamon – if the Wardens could find this miracle cure they were chasing when their paths intercepted – the Antivan suspected that most of the political machinations on the Wardens’ behalf would be taken by this Cousland. Neither the Dalish elf nor the young mage had the ability to navigate the courtly intrigues of nobility – even ones as bland as those practiced in this land of dogs.

 

_ My Dear Warden _

Perhaps it should not have been a surprise that a mage managed to survive the trap, or take him prisoner – though he had to wonder where the black haired male learned to tie knots so skillfully with only one good hand. That would certainly be a talent to impress any future lovers.

Still that he woke at all was a sort of bitter relief, he hadn’t intended to but the mage had healed the most extensive of his injuries. The magic’s chilly touch on him still receding as his consciousness returned. The attempt at an interrogation that followed was almost…adorable.

They both knew that the mage didn’t know what he was doing. And like any good Crow, he didn’t make it easier – flirting as he noticed that it made the mage stutter and blush and avert his eyes.

It was during the questioning that Zevran struck on an idea, he was a dead man in the Crows. Whether he breathed or not was irrelevant at this point – he was dead inside. Why not see what life was outside the assassin’s guild? The Warden was a little foolish but foolish mages made perfectly adequate shields.

So he’d offered himself, gave his service and oath to the startled, and little confused Warden, who had accepted it and undone the ropes. He’d warned that the others wouldn’t be happy about the decision but they _probably_ wouldn’t kill the assassin.

His dear Warden was rather more interesting than his other comrades, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty.  
> That's it for now.  
> I may come back later on and write additions for those companions I'm currently missing.   
> I like Shale so she'll probably be added later on. I may even write Loopy's and Cal's perspectives for the hell of it.  
> Oghren....I'm not sure of. I don't like him very much so we'll see.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> I thoroughly hate titles, so I'm coming up with a better one...probably.  
> The series itself needs a better one than it's got too, since "Two Wardens and a Lady" sounds like something Varric would write...probably HAS written and I haven't his talent.


End file.
